


Little One

by beenc0



Series: Iceland Centric Fics [3]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: 1st person, Ancient History, Childhood Memories, Family Bonding, Family Drama, Family Fluff, Family Issues, Flashbacks, Historical Hetalia, Historical Inaccuracy, Historical References, Icelandic History, M/M, Past Domestic Violence, Past Tense, Past Violence, Vikings, World War I, World War II
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-06
Updated: 2020-11-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:01:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26327539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beenc0/pseuds/beenc0
Summary: Iceland had spent his life away from home, unable to forget the smiles and frowns of his past. He is stuck, unable to run away from the growing pain in his chest. He is growing up, slowly, but he is growing. But, to his family, he will forever be their little brother.(Loosely based off of Icelandic history)
Relationships: Denmark & Iceland (Hetalia), Denmark/Norway (Hetalia), England & Iceland, Finland & Iceland (Hetalia), Finland/Sweden (Hetalia), Iceland & Norway (Hetalia), Iceland & Sweden (Hetalia)
Series: Iceland Centric Fics [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1870060
Comments: 3
Kudos: 27





	1. Brother

It was strange, strange watching the people I grew up with fight and yell at each other. The arms of the young women who held me was tight, she was timid. The men with beards of red and Blond roared and drew swords or axes, so very strange. My mother tongue danced darkly across their lips as they raged on, their fighting continuous and savage. Clans and families separated by squabble, leaving me to watch as they fight and sweat. 

None wanted to join under the kingdom of Norway, most fought over the fact that they might have to. I remember Norway’s face, soft but as hard as stone, his voice like honey as he took care of me for the first years of my life. My people had come as runaways from his first king, they were his and mine. But truly, I would like to keep them to myself and not to share, they are my people and part of my commonwealth. 

The young women held me close, I could hear her heartbeat as she stepped away from the bickering men. _“Why should we join such tyranny?” “This is our home, we will not succumb to such a King.”_ One man stood out, he provoked the lords and chiefs, my throat felt like stones had lodged themselves in as I watched him speak.

I had never cared to learn their names, they did not care for mine either. Soon, the woman was ushered out and she took me with her. The sky was dark, nothing unusual for this dear home of mine. The woman left, leaving me to watch the night and sit in the cold, it had never bothered me. 

Blood soon came, vengeance and violence wore onto me. Battles by sea, and battles that spilled so much blood that you could fill the ocean two times over. I could feel their pain, a new feeling that I certainly did not enjoy. In the end, one man who was close to the king was left to run my home. I did not take him as a nice man. He was too close to the King of Norway, Norway was now everywhere. I hated the man.

I spent days in the cold, taking shelter with people who took pity for a child who they would never know as the personification of this land they called home. Warm nights by the fire, listening to stories of gods before me, laughter, and warm fish. In the morning, I leave without a word. Times like that, I’d love to stay and pretend. But in reality, I cannot grow and age as fast, maybe one day I can pass but not now. 

I walked slowly down the great halls of my home, to them I was only a child, maybe a special one, but still a child. They never bothered me and I never bothered them, until now. As fast as I could (even though my height was short and my legs much smaller, I went quickly) I made my way to the assembly hall, peeking past the wooden door. Twirling my thumbs together (a habit I had yet to give up) calmed my nerves as I watched the men speak.

“To join you?” A man said, the Jarl.

“Yes, to join The Kingdom of Norway,” The ambassador smiles, speaking on behalf of Norway's king, “It’s for the better.”

“I do not believe-“

“He is right,” A familiar voice sounded from next to the ambassador, a familiar man that I had not noticed until he had spoken, “For you, for Ísland, for the people. For the better.”

I stepped forward, watching my men scrunch their eyebrows together and watch the personification of Norway rap his fingers against his arm in waiting. 

“Norge?” I spoke, eyes snapped towards me. My men seemed surprised, I never joined them in the halls.

“Ísland!” Norway smiled, “It's wonderful to see you again, little one.” I frowned as he got up to pick me up, Norway bouncing me in his arms.

“Why are you here? You rarely visit, Norge,” I questioned his actions and the reasons he had come to say hello. Though, this was now no hello.

“To join me, be part of my kingdom,” The older man went straight to the point, only making me frown deeper.

“Join? I am my own now, once your men are now mine,” I scowled as he held me closer, “I will not give you my people.”

“Oh little one, you have no say in this. We never do,” Norway shook his head as he stroked my soft, snow blond hair, “You cannot continue like this, join me and everything will get better.”

“The fighting?” I asked.

“Yes. You will have peace, the church, trading, and power,” Norway Spoke out towards the men that filled the hall, watching my face and theirs. The Norwegian ambassador smiled, nodding along, confirming the statements, “Peace, little one, think of it. Join me and you’ll be set.”

The words made me consider the idea, join Norway and have it all. My men spoke quietly to each other, I knew that this meeting would end in an agreement. And so it did, my men signed and left me with no choice but to nod along and follow.

The whole ordeal brought a smile to Norway’s face, which caused me to wonder, _Is he really doing this all for me?_ Throughout the meeting, he never let go of me, only holding me close and making small promises and giving me small praises. It was strange, once the paper was handed back to the ambassador I felt different. Chained down, maybe. I no longer felt free, nor my own. I am Norway now, though still Iceland to my people and myself.

I never got used to the halls of Norway’s home, it wasn’t ever my home. He always spent time by the fire, a book always in hand. Life had gotten easier, as promised. Though, I was never home. I was stuck in the stuffy halls across the ocean with a boy who had aged much quicker than I. He is growing into a man, while I was a small child who was home sick. 

I rounded the corners of the sharp, painted wood, rounding around tables and rugs that slipped under my feet. The sound of crackling fire became loud as I got closer to an open doorway across the long hall. Shuffling closer, I peeked around the corner: Norway sat in a stuffed chair with a book near the fire, as always. He flipped the pages as I stepped in, careful not to trip. I gathered myself as I stood next to the arm of the chair, watching him slowly flip the pages. Though, my staring slowly caught his attention, slowing the turning of pages. 

“Yes, Ísland?” He turned to look at me, his gaze soft.

“Join?”

“Come here, little one,” Norway moved his book to let me slide up and into his lap, watching him smile and hug me.

Norway held the book in one hand, and rubbed my back with the other. The crackle of fire, the turning of pages, and soft breathing was the only thing that I could hear as I became drowsy. The rubs were slow, warm and strong, lulling me into a state of near sleep. It was warm, Norway only held me close with a small smile of satisfaction. My eyes drooped as I snuggled a bit closer to the older man, letting him hold me as the minutes rolled past.

Through the sleepy hours of reading and close touches, footsteps sounded down the hallway, loud and bouncy. I frowned as I turned to face Norway’s chest, not wanting to be disturbed by a ruckus.

“Nor-“

“Shhh!!” Norway hushed the man, finger to his lips as he gestured to me, I definitely did look asleep, “Please do try not to wake him.”

“And who is him?” A voice I have heard many times around the home, squeaky and loud. A boy who just went through puberty or had never left the stage. But I did not know his face, nor his name.

“Ísland. I have told you about him before,” Norway stuck his nose up towards the new comer, still rubbing my back.

“Ohh! The kid that you got to join you,” the other laughed, “I remember you were really desperate.” 

“Desperate?” Norway scoffed, “It was for the best.”

“So,” The unknown man stepped forwards, his feet heavy against the wood, “He’ll be joining us, then?”

“With the Union? Yes,” Norway stiffened, his body tensing. I frowned, _join what?_ This was nothing I have heard of, has Norway been hiding something from me- “I have not told Ísland yet.”

“You haven’t?” The man sounded surprised, “Why?”

“I do not have the courage to,” Norway held me closer, putting down his book on the small table next to the chair to put the now free hand into my hair. He rubbed my back, kept me close and threaded his fingers into my hair.

“Courage?” The other laughed mockingly, “Very out of character for you.”

There was a pause. Neither of the men spoke, seemingly just staring at each other, thinking. I shifted in Norway’s arms, stiffly and suddenly. I thought to myself, questioning, _A Union? Of who? Of what?_ Many questions raced through my head, though I was not surprised that this was kept away from me, I was never told anything. I am just a child to them, still.

“You will tell him before we leave?” The other loomed above me, bringing a hand down to move strands of my hair away from my face. Norway hit his hand away and scowled. The other pouted like a kicked dog.

“Of course I will,” Norway sighed, “it would be cruel not to.”

“Good,” The other smiled.

“When?”

“Soon enough. Enough time for you to pack and tell the little one.”

“Fine,” A longer sigh came from the man holding me, “Thank you, Danmark.”

 _Danmark._ That’s who that was. The kingdom of Denmark, the name had floated around the home countless times. May it be in annoyance or politics, the name was spoken many times. Soon, unable to watch any further, I looked up to meet Norway’s eyes, who looked down at me.

“Oh, you’re awake,” Norway’s eyes widened, clear that he hoped that I had heard nothing. 

“Hmm..” I hummed as he ruffled my hair, combing the blond strands.

“So he’s alive!” Denmark laughed, boyishly and grand. _Grand,_ I thought, _Is the Kingdom of Denmark grand?_ “I’m Danmark, close friend of your brother here!”

Denmark’s hair stood on end, a bed head for sure. His eyes were the color of ice, a shining light blue. His jaw strong and his nose pointed, hands large and smile wide and never ending. His shoulders broad and arms built with strong muscle. But still young, his voice and eyes still young compared to the older muscle and jaw. He radiated off a feeling of _power._

“Brother?” I asked, confused by the term of relationship.

“Ignore him, little one,” Norway sighed, letting my small body slide from his lap and stand upright on the wood.

“It’s nice to meet you, Ísland. We’ll get along great!” Denmark’s voice was like a roar of a lion as he patted my head.

“In the Union?”

“You heard.”

“I was not asleep, Norge,” I looked up at the chair that Norway reclined in, watching him frown.

“You are okay with it?” He asked me.

“It is fine, I do not care,” I clutched my hands together, twirling my thumbs, “As long as you don’t leave.”

He smiled, “Of course, little one.”

The move was quick. My time at Norway’s house wasn’t long, nor was it short. But it was short enough for me to still hate the lingering hallways that weren’t my own. That same feeling followed me into the house of the Dane that had barged in many times before. The house never seemed to quiet down, creaks of floorboards filled the hallways and stairs. The people who caused the noises were never seen, like ghosts. 

I rarely saw Norway. He was busy with papers and long talks. Even if I saw him, it was just a small hug and a few whispers then a goodbye. It was lonely, though I felt used to the feeling, I did live so far away from the mainland of Europe. 

Denmark’s home was much larger than Norway’s, the halls longer and wider, filled with nothingness. It was bland and not as grand as I had thought the Danes house would be like. I truly disliked the house, it was never my own. Even my room didn’t feel like it was mine, it was like I was a prisoner. Norway told me I would get used to the feeling. I do not believe him.

It was the middle of the night, the stars and the moon glared brightly outside my window as I heard creaking down below. The sound came from the kitchen, I sat up, straining my ears to see if I was going crazy or not. Even at this time of night, the ghosts would no longer walk or talk. I slid out of bed, the bed tall and making me make sure I won’t fall on my face.

Getting out of my room was a hassle, trying not to cause any noise while I made my way down the hallway and down the large stairs. But that was to no avail, the old wood still creaked. No matter the rug, I avoided the odd feeling of the wool and made sure to keep on the wood. Wool did not feel right, every time I wished for it to be grass. My feet bare, I was only clothed in silk that Denmark had brought for me when I first came with Norway.

A light, a strange sight. I felt my shoulders stiffen as I slowed, cautious but curious. The light never dimmed, still lit as I reached the room. The kitchen, a man. He was tall, taller than Denmark. His hair a sunny yellow, short and combed, his nose pointed the same as Denmark’s but had a stronger curve. His jaw bold and strong, eyes a sky blue and strong looking hands. A pair of golden glasses rimmed across his nose. He was built the same as Denmark, strong.

The man worked around the kitchen, cutting lamb into strips. I was careful to not make a sound, the strange man had not noticed me yet. A table, small, sat in the middle of the kitchen, maybe used to hold items that a cook was using. I quietly hopped into the wooden table, watching the new man work and slice. Even with his thick fingers, he was slow and delicate, soft and easy. 

He suddenly turned around, shocking me. I was not the only one shocked, he seemed surprised as well. His stoic expression turned into a wide eyed, surprised face. The man nearly dropped the knife onto his foot.

“Who are-?” The man coughed out.

“Shush,” I sighed, “Not too loud, we do not want to wake the house.”

“Sorry,” The man set down the knife next to the chopped lamb, “who are you?”

“It’s rude to not introduce yourself first, new comer,” I tilted my head.

“We come from very different places then. I am Sverige.” Sweden, the Kingdom of Sweden. The name is strange and new, maybe I had heard it once, I do not know.

“I am Ísland,” I hopped off the table, approaching the stiff personification.

“You are Norway’s, correct?” Sweden asked.

“I am just Ísland. Nothing more, nothing less,” I frowned. The difference in height was strange, Sweden was taller than Denmark and it was hard to look up at him anyways. 

“I expected you to be older,” Sweden was direct. It did not please me if I was being honest, “Though, Norway always has called you “little one”.”

“I am old enough,” I huffed, “I have not aged like the rest of you.”

Sweden hummed, “Need anything?”

I paused, _did I need anything?_ “I heard clatter down stairs, I came to investigate. Seems like I have nothing to worry about, Sverige.”

“Good,” He nodded, “How about I walk you to your room, it is late.”

“Do what you want.”

I turned, walked towards the exit. Suddenly, I felt a warm, large hand take my smaller one. I snapped my gaze to the kingdom. Sweden took no notice of my panicked faze, dragging me (his grip loose, not strangling) down the long hallways once more. I relaxed, his warm hands comforting as the night made my eyes hazy with sleep. Sweden was not like Norway, who was pushy and touchy. Sweden was soft and gentle, careful to not hurt me or others. I kept close to him, comforted by the gentle hold and careful guiding. 

My room was still lit by the stars and the moon, Sweden slowly taking me to my bed. I still hated the feeling of the wool rug. He lifted me up gently up into my bed, tucking me in. Sweden’s gentle hands stroked my hair, a sign of trust and compassion. The new personification was sweet, I enjoyed the short company that he gave me. The attention I had been craving for weeks on end. He was young, like Norway and Denmark, but much more careful and judging. I hope to see him again soon once the morning sun graced my room a good morning.

The rooms bustled once again, weeks, maybe months, had passed since I met Sweden In the kitchen. Maybe I’d see him with Norway or Denmark, he’d nod a hello and the other would scowl in confusion. On days when I thought the house was empty, the ghosts still walked and mumbled, as always the house was never quiet. 

My legs seemed longer, they ached from time to time. Denmark claimed I was getting bigger, taller. But Norway would scoff and say _he is still a child._ My knees hurt at times, and today was that type of day. Slumped over a couch, I stared at the rugs and deer heads that littered the walls of the living room. I could not relax, my gut scrunched in anticipation, like something big was going to happen.

The ghosts of the house drew close, why am I getting nervous about a bunch of ghosts? They spoke in a strange language, I did not understand the words spoken. It was not of Germanic influence, which brought me to confusion. _Who?_ The ghosts (ghost??) walking stopped right in front of the opening that was the living room door. 

“Ah, Norja sanoi, että sinä olet täällä!” I recoil away from the man and his strange language.

The man's (boy’s?) hair was a shade lighter than Norway’s, his face round and hands small. His eyes a chocolate brown and his mouth curved into a smile. He was short, round but not chubby. His hair straight and trimmed. He was more like a child than the rest I had met. More like me.

“Voi, unohdin,” the other chuckled awkwardly, “Et voi ymmärtää minua.”

“I…” I shook my head, “I do not understand. I am sorry.”

The other shook his head and waved it off. He pointed towards me, I took that as him asking who I was.

“Ísland.”

“Ísland?”

I nod.

“Suomi!” He pointed at himself.

“Suomi? You have a strange name,” I knew he could not understand me, he most likely only knew I spoke his name. Suomi. I rattled my brain, wondering if I have ever heard of the name before.

“Norja valittaa kasvatuksestasi, kasvaaksesi,” The soft blonde laughed, “En usko, että hän haluaa sinun vanhenevan. Norja näyttää haluavan sinun pysyvän nuorena!”

I listened to the gibberish that the new man spoke, though I did not understand the man’s words, I could hear the humor through the way he talked. Suomi was kind, the language barrier was hard to break, and through motions and actions, somethings became clear and I enjoyed his company.

  
The table was crowded, well, more people sat in the chairs. I might’ve normally eaten with Suomi or not at all, but today five of us sat together. Me, Norway, Denmark, Sweden and Suomi. Most of my days were spent with Suomi and my nose stuffed in books as the other personification worked at dinner or knitted. I did not touch my plate, not hungry. Many days I was not, I could not get used to the consistency of timed meals, used to eating irregularly with whatever I could get. 

“Eat, Ísland,” Norway set down his fork as he spoke, “Do not starve yourself.”

“I am not hungry, Norge,” I pushed the plate of food away, all eyes now on me.

“Hän syö harvoin,” Suomi sighed, his language largely different to the similarities that he had with the others. Sweden hummed in acknowledgement, nodding at Suomis words.

“Little one, eat,” Norway frowned. 

“As I said, I am not hungry.”

“If he doesn’t want to eat, Norge, let him be,” Denmark laughed at my unwillingness.

“It’s not healthy,” Norway sighed in frustration.

“At least have some tea,” Sweden suggested.

“Yes, at least,” Norway agreed.

“Finland-“

“Finland?” I cut in, _Who?_

“Minä,” Suomi pointed at himself.

“You are Finland?” My eyes widened, confused.

“Suomi is how he says his name in his own tongue,” Denmark smiled as he picked at the fish that sat in his plate, beer to his right, “He’s a deighlight isn’t he?”

“He is… good company,” I stared at Finland as he stood, gathering himself so he could go get me tea. Finland.

Finland was quick, just as nimble as I learned he would be, “Thank you Suomi-“ I flushed, calling him not by _Finland._ He only laughed and ruffled my hair, clearly happy with what I called him. Maybe he preferred Suomi.

As I drank my tea, Norway kept an eye one me. The talk was small, no one talked for very long. Well, except for Denmark. He ran his mouth, even with food in it, while the others nodded and listened. It was clear that Suomi- Finland wanted to join in but understood that he couldn’t understand the words that ran from the Danes mouth. I frowned as I watched them interact, fumbling with my thumbs. My teacup now sat with my plate, empty and dry.

I couldn’t listen anymore, it was hard to even look at them. Norway, I remember meeting him years before, though I wouldn’t say it was pleasant. He was a Viking and severely over protective, that had never changed. I remember the days where he’d come and go -always covered in blood or mud- with his men. Names slipped from his mouth many times, though that was so long ago that I do not remember what he had said. Norway never stayed long, always working. 

Norway called us family, Denmark said that we were brothers- but that’s so silly. They are just getting attached. 

“-Oh c’mon Sigurd!” Denmark whined as Norway immediately hit him over the head.

“Quiet-!!” 

I snapped my eyes up, looking right into Norway’s. His were wide in blue panic, _Sigurd?_

“Sigurd?” So many names were being kept away from me. First it was Finland and now _Sigurd?_ Do they not trust me?

“How much have you not told him?” Denmark gasped, “First is what? About joining the Union and now it is your name?”

“His name?” I lifted my head, sitting up straighter. 

“Ísland-“ 

“Do not try to lie to me, Norge,” I snorted.

“I was not going to lie to you,” Norway stiffened.

“You’ve said that many times before.”

All eyes now flickered between us.

Sweden sighed as he stood, “Finland, come. This is not our place.”

“I’d say it is!” Denmark shot up, turning from the head of the table and down to sit Sweden back down, “Names, Berwald, Names!”

“Excuse me?” I coughed loudly, “Sigurd? Berwald? You have human NAMES?”

“You do not?” Finland spoke, in a tongue that wasn’t his own. 

“You speak-“

“Small,” Finland laughed.

I nodded, “Names? Human names?”

“Alias more like. For the outside world,” Norway sighed.

“You’ve been hiding this from me?” I scoffed.

“You are young-“

“I am almost as old as you! Don’t say that! I’ve been alive for hundreds of years and you dare say that?” I stood from my seat, upset and red to the face, “I may look like a child but I am not one! I will not stand to be lied to and controlled!”

“We all think that at some point,” Sweden sighed, his hands were clenched together, covering his mouth as his elbows rested on the table, “in the end, we are countries who fight, bleed, and cry. You may not like your situation, but you have to deal with it.”

“You’re telling me to suck it up?” I hissed.

“I am.”

“Sverige-“ Finland moved upwards, sliding his chair out from under him and towards Sweden and Denmark -who stood behind the framed man-. 

“He is right,” Norway spat, “Ísland, things will always be kept away from you. Everyone lies and it is hard to trust anyone. As a country, it’s life or death. Always choose life, choose yourself before others. That is how you stay alive in this world.”

Solemn nods came from each man in the dining room. I fumed. So many things were being kept away from me. I am not a child. I am not.

“At least-“ I steadied my breath, “At least tell me your names. And if.. I have one.”

“Sigurd Bondevik,” Norway pointed at himself, “Magnus Densen,” -Denmark- “Berwald Oxenstierna,” -Sweden- “and I do not know Finland’s name.”

“Tino Väinämöinen,” The fin smiled as he clapped his hands together happily, happy that they were all finally talking peacefully. 

“Ah,” my shoulders fell, “Then what’s mine?”

“That’s for you to decide, little one. You don't have to know now, it took some time for all of us, but do make it meaningful,” Norway stood up like the rest of them, he made his way over to me, “I’ll try not to hide anything from you, little one. We are family.”

“Family?” I huffed, salty, “You’re getting attached, Norge.”

“What-?” Norway was cut off by Finland almost immediately-

“Bed! No fight!” The sloppy sound of the new language was rough as Finland spoke, moving to get the personifications off to their respective rooms.

Sleep did not come easily.

The days were cold and long, the hallways full of loud voices of the personifications who lived in them. I spent the long days hidden in my room as I listened to the shattering of glass and screaming of different languages. Slowly after that dinner, the world around me started to fall apart. Suddenly, I fought with Norway over little things, well, everyone started to fight over little things. The others started to stay in the large home more than they did before, their leaders sending them away. Though, I did not see how this could solve the problem. Our emotions towards another country influences the people, and likewise. 

“The taxes are high, Danmark!” The rough voice of the Kingdom of Sweden shook the house as he yelled at the other man.

“You’re blaming me, huh? It’s not my fault your people won’t-“ Denmark could never complete his sentences as Sweden would snarl and cut in, making the argument longer and worse.

Soon, I could hear things being thrown. This happened too often, the fighting between the men in the house. Men, they were men now. Sweden sprouted to be even taller than he was before, his limbs rippling with new muscle. Denmark grew bigger, height wise. They now grew into men. Norway was as slim as he had always been, Finland even was losing baby fat. I watched as they grew into men and I into nothing. I am still a child as they soar onwards into their prime. 

“We will revolt, Danmark. You cannot stop us.”

“Us? You have no one, Sveirge. Stop this now.”

Their voices never silence. I curled up against my room's bare wall, hugging my knees to my chest. So soon the family I thought I had grown to love and care for fell apart, fighting raged on into the night as the four men I almost called my brothers screamed and fought. They nearly set the house ablaze as they squabbled, many times it did feel like fire burned the house. The rage that filled the house of the Kingdom of Denmark only grew stronger as years passed. Years of yelling and crying. I only wished for it to stop.

Dinner was rare. I never came down after a long fight or if the day was too quiet. Days of silence only meant that the men that filled the house were out and about, revolting. Even small Finland yelled, he and Sweden talked into the halls many times. I hated it, I hated it more than I hated the empty halls.

I spent those days thinking of the past, thinking of the home I haven’t seen since my legs were short and my face round. The days where I did not have to worry about Europe’s problems. The past lingered as I droned out the yelling of my superiors. 

  
  


_“Ísland! Come on!” Denmark laughed as he stood by the base of the large pine that was rooted just outside of the Danes home._

_“No! I am not climbing that!” I shook my head, “It has been years since I’ve climbed!”_

_“Well that ends today!” Denmark pushed off of the Pine and picked me up, swinging me over his shoulders so I could cling to his neck and wrap my legs around his middle._

_“Danmark!!” I cried out._

_Denmark pushed forwards and jumped, grabbed a branch and pulled himself up. The process was repeated many times, some with the branch nearly breaking (Denmark was large, alright?). The tree swayed as Denmark slowed, sitting on a large, starry branch. I held on tighter, my legs and arms hugging the other as hard as I could._

_I could no longer see the ground through the branches, pine needles and branches closed the window downwards. Denmark laughed as he pried my legs away from his waist, moving me off of his shoulders. I hissed as the dane set me down on his lap as he separated the branches in front of us._

_“Danmark-!” I gasped as I thrashed around._

_“Kid- settle down or you'll fall!” Denmark laughed at my struggling, grabbing my shoulders to keep me still._

_“Way too tall! Way too tall!” I stopped squirming, falling into a frozen position of staring out into the blue sky and trapped with Denmark's arms wrapped around me. The blue sky. The noon sun glowed as spring welcomed the warmer months, the noon sun brightened the pines and windows of the old home that I had spent many years in. Denmark’s home glowed as it's large windows reflected the sun's rays into the green grass below._

_“Isn't it beautiful?” Denmark’s grip on me tightened as he smiled, watching my eyes widen in awe at the scene before me. I spent years stuck in the danes home, never daring to go outside (Maybe only for a bit, wishing to feel the grass again). White clouds drifted across the sky in thin streams, creating shapes and pictures. Upon this pine, I realized how much I truly missed the mountains and hills of Iceland. My home, Iceland._

_“Danmark! Ísland?” Norway, “Where are you- oh my god!”_

_Norway gasped, though i was unable to see his face, but from the sound of his screech, he was horrified. Denmark suddenly moved, sharply moving me to his chest._

_“Haha-” Denmark’s smile dissipated as he heard Norway scream from the bottom of the pine’s trunk, “C’mon kid, let's hurry down.”_

_“Get Ísland down from there!” Norway called up into the thick branches of the large pine, up at me and Denmark._

_“Yeah yeah! On it!” Denmark cradled me closer to him, making sure i wouldn't slip as he slid down the thick branches and closer to solid ground._

_“No.”_

_“What?” Denmark stopped moving downwards, pausing as I protested._

_“I want to see the sky.”_

_“Kid-“_

_“Ísland!!” Norway howled as he paced back and forth, panicky._

_“Cmon, we don’t want Norge to lose his skin, do we?” Denmark awkwardly laughed as he watched my face fold into a scowl._

_“I want to see the sky. Let me see the sky.”_

_“You can see the sky from the ground-“_

_“It’s like being over the sea's edge, over a mountain or hill. I want to see my sky.” I pulled at Denmark’s shoulders, willing him to retreat upwards into the tree._

_“I… Norge!?” Denmark shouted down to the worried personification._

_“What?” Norway fumed, “what’s taking you so long?”_

_“Ísland wants to see the sky!” Denmark rolled his shoulders, trying to get me to stop pulling on them._

_“He can see the sky from the ground!”_

_“No. From an edge,” Denmark frantically called down, “He wants to see the sky like he used to!”_

_“Like he used to?”_

_“He misses home, Norge,” The Dane frowned as he watched my eyes stare into the parts between branches._

_“Home? This is-“ Norway froze, “Ísland…” The nation sighed as he rubbed his face, “Fine. Danmark, stay with him. You have 10 minutes.”_

_“C'mon kid, let’s see the sky,” Denmark smiled again as he moved upwards, up the tree. He only stopped when I whacked him across the head, staring at an opening between the trees. I could almost see my home, almost. Too many trees, but it did have the same blue sky and spring air. It was like a fresh waterfall, clear and beautiful. I smiled as I rested my head on Denmark’s, relaxing as I stared off into the distance._

_“Home, Dan. Home.”_

I covered my ears as the sound of shattering glass and pottery filled the halls, pulling my knees ever so slightly towards my chest. Even though hours may have passed, their fighting never ceased. I scowled as I heard my door open, footsteps of Norway filled my ears. He crossed the room and slid down the wall to sit next to me, his hand moving up to tangle itself into my hair. He pulled me closer, a bit uncomfortable with my longer legs and torso. I had grown, and so had he. He twisted my hair around his fingers, holding my flushed to his chest. Norway mumbled, slightly shaking.

“Norge?” I looked up to the shaking personification. 

“Ísland,” Norway mumbled into my hair. 

“Do you need to talk?” I wrapped my arms around him.

“No. You do not need to worry,“ He only held me closer.

We sat in silence as the seconds passed, only listening to each other’s breathing as roars of anger filled the halls down stairs. I looked up to Norway, looking at his bony figure. His eyes sullen, tired, angry, but was slowly relaxing due to the warmth of my own body. I leaned my head against his shoulder, humming as Norway raked his fingers through my hair. My eyes drifted from Norway’s body and down to the rug.

“Eiríkur,” I mumbled.

“Eiríkur?” Norway’s voice brightened in surprise.

“My name, Norge. I want that to be my name,” I continued to stare at the rug that covered my room's wooden floor.

“Why?” Norway asked.

“Ever ruler. That is what it means,” I felt Norway’s grip loosen, “Ei, ever. Rikr, ruler. Forever a ruler, Norge. I wish to keep my people, to forever be myself.”

“It’s perfect, it fits you perfectly,” I could feel Norway’s smile against my hair, “What about your last name?”

_The snow melted as I stuck my tongue out, catching the dainty flakes on my tongue. It had no taste, just plain water. Though, I enjoyed the childish game. The snow had been picking up, the past few days an endless, slow fall of snow. The taste of mackerel still lies heavily on my taste buds as I walked down the snowy, rocky path that led to a house that I was all too familiar with._

_I could see the lights on and smoke coming out of the small, handmade chimney. I smiled as I started to jog down the path, ready to see the old man that lived in the house. The wood was rotting, the spots where the wood had completely torn off was filled with stones. Grass and moss lined the bottom and top ledges of the home._

_As I approached the old door, it opened. The old man looked tired, though his mood changed as he spotted me running for the door. The man welcomed me with open arms, smiling as he watched me come inside._

_A small fire was left under some bricks, the man’s old table in the same place it had always been. I sighed gratefully as I sat down by the fire, letting the old man wrap a sheep’s wool around my shoulders and sit down next to me._

_For many years I had run to this man, watching him grow old. He had never said no to me, I assumed he enjoyed the company I gave him during the short times I stayed with him. I did enjoy this part of the year more than any else._

_“Sir, I have never gotten your name,” I watched the man play with the whiskers of his beard._

_“I cannot say I ever got yours too, small one,” The man joked, patting my head, “I am Steil. Strange, I know.”_

_“Steil. That is not from here,” I watched as the old man sighed._

_“German, that is what it is. It means steep.”_

_“That is sad, disappointing even,” I rubbed my hands together, above the fire._

_“That I am named Steep, or that I am German?”_

_“Both.”_

_The old man laughed, his voice forming a shaky cackle. “You truly are special, small one. Now, what is your name?”_

_“I have no name other than Ísland,” I watched his eyes narrow._

_“Ísland? Like this place's name?” The old man broke into a snort, “Even sillier than mine!”_

_“Do not make fun of it!” I blushed, my cheeks turning red in embarrassment._

_“We’re equal now, aren’t we? We both have silly names, small one. Matching even!” The old man’s blue eyes smiled, watching my small hands. “Where do you even live? Why come here?”_

_“I have no home. Your place is the closest thing I can consider home. Other than this land, of course.”_

_“Wordy, you are wordy,” The old man sighed, “I’m flattered, I do not have a long time left here. But, I am glad that I had spent these short years, these short winters with such a sweet, young boy.”_

_“I- thank you.”_

_“Of course. You are like a son to me. That is not strange, is it?”_

_“It is not.”_

I finally looked back at Norway, “Steilsson.”

“Steilsson? I do not know how your names work, but you have no father. I know that much,” Norway’s grip once again became tighter, maybe a bit jealous of the formal name that I had chosen for myself.

“A man, he was like a father. I want to remember him,” I smiled, watching Norway.

Norway sighed, “So be it, Eiríkur Steilsson.”

I laughed.

  
  


The house was quiet, there was no yelling, there was no shattering of glass. The house had suddenly fallen dead. But, I could still almost see the tension in the air, it was like purple smoke that fumed from each personifications door. I sighed as I walked down the empty hallway, walking towards the kitchen like I had years ago. I silently wished to see Sweden over the counter, cutting pork or boar. Maybe deer. 

It was the early morning, the sun had risen and the bright rays of the star glared through the open windows. I peeked past and into the kitchen, and to my delight, there was Sweden. But instead of him being hunched over some meat, he had his head in his hands. I froze, a stone lodging itself into my throat.

Sweden’s glasses were placed on the wooden table that I remembered well. The older man’s ears were red, maybe in anger or from the heat of having his face shoved into his large hands. I swallowed thickly as I slowly came towards the man I had grown accustomed to.

“Sverige?” I whispered.

His head whipped up, eyes growing wide as he looked at me. “Ísland?”

I hummed, pulling out a chair and pushing it next to the kingdom. I sat down, hands in my lap as I fiddled with my thumbs. I still had not gotten rid of the habit.

“You look older,” Sweden whispered back.

“I feel older, that’s for sure,” I raised an eyebrow. At that moment I realized that I had not spoken to Sweden in such a long time that I had nearly become a different person.

“Your legs are longer, arms as well. Your face too, no longer like a child’s,” Sweden reached a hand up to put it upon my cheek, “You are much different from that first night I had met you.”

“That is good, correct?”

“Good.”

Sweden moved his hand down, linking it with his other in his lap. I did not know what to say, I do not think I know much about Sweden. The only thing I could do was to sit next to the red eared man. 

It was strange, strange to sit next to the man Denmark was screaming at for hours on end. I did not know if I had to take a side, but I surely would not. This group of stupid men had turned into a family, though that had shattered many years ago. I could never choose between them, but in the end, I would choose myself. Norway had taught me as such, you before anyone else. 

Sweden let out a long sigh, suddenly standing up. “Thank you.”

“What?”

“Thank you for sitting here with me. It was nice to see you again, you are a fresh face. A face I could not get mad at,” Sweden ruffled my hair, walking past me to reach his almost forgotten glasses.

“Sleep well, brother,” I told him.

“Brother…” Sweden smiled -well, as much as the man could-, “Yes. You as well, brother.”

I watched as Sweden left. My face turned red, _I cannot believe I just said that._

The fire was warm as I lied on the couch, watching the crackling and swirls of the beast that rested in the fireplace. Fire, the thing that could burn cities and homes to the ground. I had never hated the beast, it had always been a friend during the times of cold, dark winters. But now, it had turned into a foe I could only associate with the raging screams of the men in the large home.

I sighed as I moved my gaze away from the burning force and towards the sudden movement that came from the opening of the living room.

“Ísland!” Finland, the man smiled as he jogged towards me. I almost smiled at the joy that someone had come to me, even if it was the one who could barely speak Norwegian. “It good to see you! Great looking!”

I nearly cringed at the word placement. But, thankfully, I could still understand the Fin. “You as well, Suomi. How have you been?”

“Bad. Much fighting. I wish it stop,” Finland sighed as he came over to rest over the back of the couch, leaning over me, “It no fun, but I am glad that you not involved.”

“Not directly, I do not think any of them have the heart to yell at me, but in the end, I am still going to be dragged in somehow,” I rolled my eyes. I looked up towards Finland, looking at the man. He was like the others, older. Maybe I was older, they have been saying such things. “You look well. Older, becoming a man.”

“Man?” Finland laughed, “I already one, from the start.”

“I mean that by; you’re getting older.”

“Oh! That, yes, I think I am,” Finland laughed, “Am I good? My Norwegian.”

“You are getting better, Suomi,” I shakily reasure the personification of Finland.

“Thank you! Soon we talk normally!” Finland smiled as he leaned down to kiss my hair. “It good to talk to you. Nice.”

“Thank you, brother.”

Finland blushed, laughing it off. 

_Brother. How silly._

Denmark clapped me on the back as we sat outside. The sun was hot, it was June in Denmark. The birds chirped in a song, a tune so distant. The leaves danced in the warm wind, the trees large and green. The sky held no clouds, clear and blue. 

“How are you?” The Dane had asked.

“I could be better. Your yelling gets tiring,” I grumbled.

“I’m sorry, Ice. It’s been difficult these past years,” Denmark frowned, though for only a moment. I almost didn’t catch it. “I hope you’ve been holding up well.”

“I’ve had no problems, this is only a you problem,” I linked my hands together, watching as a small bird landed next to us.

“A me problem?” Denmark sighed, “Yeah, i guess you can say that.”

Denmark turned to face me, scooting close to put a hand on my head, scrunching his fingering into my hair.

“Dan-“

“I don’t think any of us would have the courage to yell at you,” Denmark concluded, “Norge especially.”

“You act like we are family,” I pulled my knees towards my chest, my shoulders aching from the act.

“Coming from you, that’s ironic,” Denmark snorted, “Finland was all over the fact you called him ‘brother’. You Should’ve heard him! Even with his broken Norwegian, it was clear that you had not held back. Sverige said that you called him that too. Norge was upset.” 

“I- of course he was.”

“He went on about ‘I’m like his big brother! Why won’t he call me brother? It’s like we’re family, right?’. It was funny!” The Dane laughed, running his hands through my hair.

“Brother, why do you all like to touch my hair?” I asked, the question had been bubbling up in my throat for many months. Norway, Sweden, and Finland had held me close in such a way.

“I think it’s because we don’t want you to grow up. You’re like a little brother to all of us, even through the fighting,” Denmark smiled, his ice blue eyes glistening, “You’re a breath of fresh air, like I said, no one can get mad at you. If we did, It would not be for long.”

“You didn’t answer my-“

“It’s nice to have a kid around, y’know? We grew up so fast, the days that we used to spend together are now long in the past. Having you around gives us this sense of ‘home’ or ‘what used to be’. We miss it,” Denmark’s smile turned grim, looking at me, “I think you have that bit of home in ya, having you close gives us this sense of home. The hair, I don't know, you look like the younger version of Norge. Maybe that’s why, I cannot tell. But, we love you. That’s what matters, right?”

“You… love me?” My cheeks burned, chest constricting into a swarm of butterflies.

“Of course! We wouldn’t trade ya for the world!”

“Thank you, brother.”

“‘Course, Ice.”

I peeked around the corner, staring at the men by the doorway. The air was tense, almost chokingly tense. I could see Finland turning stiff as he spotted me at the end of the corridor, eyes wide as he watched me. I did not move, scared and unable to move my growing legs to go up and ask what was happening. 

My eyes drifted to Sweden, watching as the older Personification glare at Denmark, his gaze full of hatred. _He’s leaving._ I suddenly felt like I had a hole in my heart, I was unable to move as I watched the four men dance around each other, their words full of spite.

“You’re just leaving? Just like that?” Denmark howled.

“We are,” Sweden’s fists clenched together, “I’m putting this to an end. It was never meant to be.”

“You cannot leave-“ Denmark's voice was cracking, full of sadness and anger. He stared at the Swede and the Fin, desperation in his eyes as he reached for them to stay, “We can work this out, we can fix this-”

“Danmark, this isnt working out. My people aren’t happy, i’m not happy. You cannot stop this,” Sweden grabbed Finland's arm, opening the large wooden door that led to the outside that led to a new time, a new world. A new life. Sweden stood tall, shoulders square with bags hanging from his sides. His glasses slightly broken from the past fights, from the fists that were thrown during the dark nights. 

Norway did not move, his face was scrunched into a scowl, arms crossed around his chest. Norway looked small compared to the two larger men that stood next him, yelling. I frowned as I watched Norway’s face contort as he flinched away from the yelling, unable to put in his own voice. Through the years, Norway's voice barely raised, he spoke calmly and strictly. He moved away from the kingdoms as they fought in the hallways, seeking me out during the nights. 

Finland, I did not see Finland as much as I wished I had. Now, I wished I could go back in time and speak to the developing man that had smiled at me and made sure I ate. His cheeks red as he held back obvious tears from the thought of leaving, but I could tell that this was the best for him. He knew that as well. Finland's small hands were strong, I knew he could take care of himself. I wished for him to have a life he deserved, a life full of peace and snow that he had talked about so much at dinner.

I wish, I hope, that I could someday be able to go back and give them what they all deserve. They deserve more than the yelling, the fighting. They deserve more than the painful, lonely nights. I wish to give them never ending peace, a home that they could return to and smile when they thought of it. A home better than this one.

Finland did not protest, he only took one last glance at me and waved goodbye, he turned to follow Sweden out into the wilderness to find home. My chest hurt, it felt like something had just been torn away from me, maybe it was because through the union, we were all connected. Fueled by hate and love, a familiar relationship that fell apart so quickly that I couldn't even count the years, the months, and the days. In no time at all, I had to watch two people who I now considered family say goodbye.

I hated watching their backs, watching as Sweden and Finland left, leaving everything behind to start anew. I flinched as the large doors slammed shut, shutting my eyes and turning to put my back against the wall. I couldn’t breathe, i should’ve expected the leave, i should’ve expected this from all of the fighting. But in the end, I could not handle the emptiness that the house was now filled with, with no more Finland or Sweden. The kingdoms gone, the men that I had grown to love and grown up with were gone. Some part of me knew that I could probably never see the pair again. The world was big and full of never ending problems, in the end, the problem that was thrown around in this house would never rest. The yelling, fighting and harsh conditions that this house gave us all would never leave our shoulders, it would follow us like a ghost. The ghosts of this house will haunt us for the rest of our lives, we will never be the same. Never the same family that we were.


	2. Loss and Gain

Maybe it was foolish of me to think the fighting would stop, but some political actions raised the spark of fire and turned the beast into a monster. It engulfed the house, leaving no one unscathed. I still spent the nights huddled in my room as I listened to Denmark and Norway squabble over the smallest things, the days spent avoiding the snarls of the growing men. The aggression bloomed from the cool fall of september, it never simmered down, only growing into a blaze that slowly started to burn the house to the ground. 

I hid around corners, hiding away from the prying eyes of the two men that fought. Even though the house was as empty as it could be, it was filled with the same amount of aggression from only months before. What got me was the bruises that started to appear on Norway's arms, the purple bloomed bigger each week. Norway came to me during the silent, cold nights. He hugged me, spoke to me about how i had grown and how he loved me. He spent the nights wrapped around my smaller body, seaking out my comfort. 

I avoided Denmark’s rage fueled drinking, hiding away from the smashing of glass and metal. I avoided the yells of my brothers down below, hiding away from their growing hate. Norway mistreated and Denmark stuck in a downhill fall. The world was falling apart around me, my chest felt empty. Ever since Sweden and Finland left, life got worse. I felt homesick, empty, scared. I couldn’t leave the room I was given from the first night I stayed over without tiptoeing over the wool and wood, without covering up my breathing. 

Norway disappeared, for many days he’d be gone. I’d be alone with Denmark for days, hiding away from his drunken frenzy. But once in a while, he’d come into my room and hold me, sobbing. His life was falling apart, just like mine. I almost felt pity for the man, unable to stay mad at him. Denmark would hold me until Norway got home, he’d fall to his knees and cry over Norway's feet. Norway only glared down at him.

One night, I was outside, breathing in the cold air of the winter. Norway had one of his episodes, running away to never be seen for days on end. For many hours the only thing I could hear in the woods was the rustling of the dying leaves and the running of the river that flowed past the dying pine tree that I used to love dearly. I remember the days where I would climb the tree with Denmark, staring out over the trees that I wished could be my own home. 

A few chirps made me flinch, the sounds of a bird came from above me. The sound familiar, like I had heard it before. I could not pinpoint the sound that blared through my ears. I squinted, staring up into the trees above my head. No birds, only the dying leaves that rotted up on their branches. The sound of the bird was familiar, but I could not place where I remembered it from. A warm feeling filled my chest, a feeling that I had not felt in years. Many years. The sense of home, the sense of something so dear to me was coming to say hello. That it was not too far away.

_The egg was cold. Deathly cold. I wrapped my hands around the strange egg, small and covered in brown spots. It was high on a cliff, slightly slipping on the wet grass that covered the rocks of the side. The wind was cool, brushing against my bangs, circling around my small body as I climbed back up the hill with the egg._

_I nearly slipped as I grabbed onto the roots that stuck off from the cliff, helping me struggle my way upwards. As I touched solid, flat rock, I sighed and sat down. The egg had not cracked, nor did it beat with the warmth of a young, alive baby bird. I huddled the egg towards my chest and under the furs that decorated my shoulders. I nearly wrapped my entire body around the dying egg, trying to get the poor thing to warm up and give it life._

_It was probably a few hours, maybe just a few minutes till I started to hear a voice calling for me. Popping my head out of my furs, I looked around. Nothing had changed, the air still cold, clouds hung loosely in the sky._

_“Ísland?” Norway, “Ísland? Where are you?”_

_The egg wobbled in my hands, suddenly warmed by the sound of Norway’s voice. Joy leapt through my heart at the sight of the warm, wiggling egg._

_“Norge! Norge!” I laughed giddily as I waved over the older boy, whose young face flashed with surprise as he spotted me hanging by the edge of the cliff with my body wrapped around an egg._

_“Ísland! There you are!” Norway, a boy barely older than me with blond hair, nearly purple, blue eyes of stone and soft hands._

_“What cha got there, little one?” Norway jogged over, immediately bending over me to check on me._

_“Egg!” I spoke in my tongue, ignoring the others Norwegian._

_“Egg?” Norway scowled, “You found an egg?”_

_“It's a puffin egg! Left behind maybe, it was all alone,” I pressed my small hands to warm the egg. Norway crouched to his knees, pressing a hand on the egg._

_“It will not die, it is alive,” Norway helped me up, grabbing me and cradling me in his arms. I hugged the egg close to my chest as Norway started to walk._

_“What should I name it?” I asked._

_“Anything, anything you would like, little one,” Norway chuckled as he slid into the brush that covered the camp of men. They eye us as we cross the camp, many men draped in wool's and cloaks, cowering from the cold. A man approached Norway as he set me down, my hands still holding the egg, it slightly shook._

_The pair talked in hushed whispers, avoiding looking at me directly. My eyes widen as the egg cracked-_

_“Norge! I- I think I broke it!” Slight panic set into my bones as my eyes widened at the puffin egg._

_“Ísland-“ Norway turned away from the man who he was talking to, turning to look at the familiar, “It is hatching, you have not broken it,” Norway bent down to press his fingers along the eggs shaking shell, whispering a few words that went above my head. The shell fell apart, a small little beak pressed outwards and into the air. Norway laughed as he watched me stare in awe._

_A few men had gathered around to look, silently chuckling at me as I watched the baby puffin stick it's head out of the egg. A man ruffled my hair as my small hands picked up the slightly feathered puffling. I smiled, my grin the largest Norway has ever seen it been._

_“Take care of it,” Norway stood up, his young legs slightly aching from the rocky ground, “You will name it, and take care of it, correct?”_

_“Yes! Of course, big brother!” I smiled as I Stood up as well, “I will…. name him Mr. Puffin!”_

_Norway snorted, leaning in to speak to the small, baby bird, “Take care of him, alright?” The small bird only squeaked in response._

_I watched as Norway turned to speak to the men of the camp, holding the baby bird close to my chest._

**_Aye, aye! Watch it tough guy!_ **

_I froze._

**_Yeah, I’m talking to ya! Your brother there told me to take care of ya, and that’s what I’m gonna do, punk!_ **

_I stared at the bird who stared back up at me. “NORGE! It spoke!” I held the bird away from my chest, it squawked._

**_Yo! Don’t fuckin’ throw me!_ **

_“Norge!!” Norway sighed as he turned to look at my panicked face._

_“Ísland, you’ve had a long day, maybe it’s time for bed,” Norway put on a tired smile as he scooped me up into my arms._

**_Yeah, punk! Bed time!_ **

_“I’m not lying! It’s talking, can’t you hear it?” I desperately spoke to the boy, the bird seemed to laugh at me as I panicked._

_“I said, you’ve had a long day, it’s time for bed,” Norway moved to put me into the furs of my bed, ruffling my hair, “In the morning, you’ll feel better.”_

**_Sleep! That's what you need!_ **

_“I hate you.”_

**_Love ya too, punk._ **

A bird, more specifically, a puffin, flew overhead. It squawked as it landed next to me. I smiled.

The sound of the front door opening woke me. My head spun, a small headache gracing me a good morning as he rolled and pulled the covers up to cover my head. The throbbing ache was preventing me from going back to bed, the pain consumed me as many footsteps filled the hallways. I groaned, unused to the knowledge of having so many people was also keeping me up. The morning sun had yet to shine through the windows and I hid beneath the covers. I spent many mornings doing the same thing I’m doing now, stuck underneath the covers of my bead, not wanting to leave the comfort of them. 

I had also spent many evenings trying to make Mr. Puffin quiet. Such simple things kept me up to hours unimaginable to others, unimaginable to the ruckus that dwelled outside my door. The ache that swallowed my head and thoughts did not cease as the morning sun peeked from behind the white curtains of my room. I poked my head out of my covers, finally breathing and taking a listen to the starting voices. 

My feet hit the ground with a thump as I stepped out of bed. My legs had grown, they had an unfamiliar length that made me stumble. I wobbled as my limbs stretched and creaked with tiredness, raking a cold hand into my tangled hair. I reached for my curtains, pulling them apart to let the new sun shine into the room. Keeping an ear out for footsteps or voices, I pressed my hands against the clips of the window, pushing the glass up. Sticking my face out the window felt good, the wind blew my hair behind my ears and out of my face, the wind bit at my cheeks and fingers with a cold stricken gust. 

I flinched as my door was slammed open, hurried and frantic. I whipped around to see Denmark panting by the opening of my door. 

“Danmark?” I gasped.

He rushed over to me, his eyes wide in shame.

“Danmark?” I grabbed his arm, squeezing it as he pressed his fingers to my cheeks.

“Come,” Denmark beckoned, pulling me out of my room and down the long and twisting hallways of the Danish home.

“Danmark!” Sweden. Sweden’s voice shouted through the house, “Do as Norge has wished!”

Denmark pulled my arm, his fingers thick and tight as he took a shameful glance back towards me. My heart raced, face flushed. I wondered, wondered why Sweden had entered the large home again. I gritted my teeth in pain as Denmark tugged at my skin. 

“Danmark!” This time, it was Norway who called out. His voice was desperate as we twisted and turned in the hallways, “Please! Leave Ísland in bed!”

Denmark finally stopped and I rammed into his back, “He deserves to see you. He deserves to see you run.”

Norway had entered the hallway we stood in, “Ísland.”

I pried Denmark off of my arm and jumped forwards to Norway, “What’s going on?”

“I-”

“He’s leaving,” Sweden had appeared and had pressed a large hand against Norway’s shoulder.

My eyes widened, shocked by the sudden information. “What?” I asked, heart never stopping to calm down.

“The treaty is already signed,” Sweden stared down at me, his blue eyes stricken with worry and sorrow.

“As long as you don’t leave,” I quoted, pressing my face into Norway’s chest. My hands tightened into the elders cloak, my fingers tangling in the furr. I could feel Norway stiffening as he remembered the promise, the night in which Denmark had come smiling to them as they sat on the couch with the fire burning.

“Of course, little one,” Norway pressed his nose into my messy hair.

“Now, you are leaving,” My eyes stinged, never have I thought I would be left alone. After all these years, after all those nights spent along with just a bird and the snow was something I never thought I’d have again. 

“This,” Norway whispered into my hair, his voice gruff, “This wasn’t my choice.”

“You have no say in this. We never do,” I whispered. I pressed my hands to his face, tears threatening my eyes to spill over. I did not think everything would fall apart like this, fall apart in a way family was torn away from me. I did not want to live in this house alone, Denmark was never around, I did not want to be alone. 

“May my words stay with you forever, may they lead you to great places,” Norway had to pry himself off of me with the help of Sweden. I could not process the parting of the touch, I desperately reached forwards to the leaving force, like I was a child reaching for his mother. I was just a child. I child that knew nothing of war, that knew nothing of separation. Life as a nation is a learning process, and now I am learning. Learning faster than I can take. 

I leaned into the cold but familiar hands of the man who treated me as a brother, who said he'd be at my side for as long as I stayed at this damn house. He had spat lies through his teeth, he knew I'd have to stay with Denmark but could not admit it to me. I am and will always be a child to them. 

“Take care, Eiríkur,” He said. I watched as Norway opened the door and leave. I choked out a sob as Denmark pressed a warm hand to my head, kissing my hair and whispering;

“It’ll be okay.”

I watched Denmark from the door of the kitchen, watching him chop up the deer that he was preparing for dinner that night. I held Mr. Puffin close to my chest as I walked in, Denmark's humming was low and soft. My feet felt light, unable to think about anything other than the last words that Norway had spoken to me before he left. It was for the better, I knew that Norway would be treated better with Sweden, in a better place and considered as a neighboring subordinate. 

Mr. Puffin squawked as he noticed that I would not speak, and let Denmark know that I had entered for dinner. Denmark jumped as he whirled around to spot me and my puffin.

“Where- where did you get that thing?” Denmark asked.

“Home,” I spoke quietly, walking across the kitchen to sit down in one of the lonely two chairs that were placed for the occupants of the large house. 

“Ísland? How did he get here?” Denmark moved with the meat in his hands, setting it down on the long table to sit across from me and Mr. Puffin.

“I do not know,” I placed the wiggling bird onto the table, letting him strut around, “He follows me everywhere. He’s been with me for forever” 

Denmark nodded as he watched the dirty bird walk across his table. I smiled at how confidently Mr. Puffin strutted up to Denmark to peck at his nose.

“Ice- god watch your bird!” 

The house may not be full of people like it had been many years ago, but I sure was happy with the warm atmosphere. No hate or worry drenched and clogged the air of the halls. The worst seemed to be over. 

“Eiríkur, huh?” Denmark turned to watch my eyes snap over to me, “Heard Norge say that to ya. I’m glad you thought of something before it was all over.”

“It isn’t over, Danmark,” I huffed, using a hand to grab Mr. Puffin and pull him close to me, “We have many years to ourselves, many years left to spend.”

Denmark smiled, “How did you grow up so fast?”

“Times change, people change,” I spoke, hands stroking the bird feathers and the bird huffed.

Denmark eyed me as I pushed my chair forwards so I was properly sitting at the table. I picked up my fork and picked at the meat that sat on the plate in front of me. The days had been long, just me and Denmark and a bird. Nights were cold, my bed sheets ice cold from the open windows and open doors. Denmark spent his days out and doing work, I stayed in the house or outside in the garden I started. I wished to see the sheep of my home, the bold fences and houses that littered the mountains and valleys. I wished for the woman who held me as a child and kept me close to her chest as she smiled and laughed warmly with the men with beards and mead. 

At times it would be lonely, unable to see anyone in the house other than the bird who squawked and bickered with me. I could not blame anyone anymore, it was no one's fault but the decisions of our rulers and people. Hate had blossomed and pushed us away from each other, that was something that is expected from people who have lived hundreds of years. People learn to hate and people learn to love, many of the things Norway had said me will stick to me for the rest of my life, including those words. We are ourselves but we are also no one at all. I am myself, but I am also no one to the grand world that was outside of my grasp. People know who Denmark is, they know who Sweden is, they know who Norway is, and they know who Finland is. Someday, I will become someone who they will know, the world will know who I am. I won't be lonely, I will have the the people around me. I will finally have people around me.

I pressed the fork into the meat, prying the flesh apart to stuff the dry meat into his mouth. Denmark smiled as he pushed out of his chair, pressing his hands against the table. He leaned around the table and pressed his hands to my face, a sad frown carved into his red cheeks. He pressed his head to my own forehead, letting out a sound sob.

“We had everything,” I stared into his blue eyes, “A family, Friends. And look, we lost them.”

“We haven’t lost anything,” I reply.

“What?” 

“You have me,” I laughed halfheartedly, watching as he scoffed and smiled at the words, “You’ll have me.”

“Why are you the one comforting me?” Denmark asked, arms tight around me.

“Because you’re the one who needs comforting,” I said, voice shaky.

“I should be comforting you,” Denmark whispered.

“I don’t need comforting, Danmark,” I reasoned.

“You lost your brother, Ísland,” Denmark pressed his thumbs into my sides, holding me close.

“You’re my brother, Dan,” I said, without thinking. The phrase surprised me, I had not expected to say that. I did not understand why I even said such a thing. But, I did realize I had referred to every man who lived in this house as such. They are family, so is Denmark.

“Yes,” Denmark laughed, “I’m your Brother…”

I watched as Denmark stared down at me, trailing off from his sentence to press his hands to the side of my head.

“Thank you, Ísland,” He smiled.

I nodded as he pitifully laughed. _Brothers._

“Goodnight, Eiríkur,” Denmark ruffled my hair, smiling. And I bid him a goodnight.

I wiped the dirt from my hands onto my thin fabric pants, smearing the wet mud and dust onto the tan pants. My sleeves rolled up to cool down from the blearing heat that rose over the horizon. It was all quite familiar, standing out under the sun with dirt, mud, and grass stains covering most of my skin and clothes. Familiar with the bird that sat on my shoulder -though not as heavy as when I was a child- and the way Mr. Puffin pecked at his reddening ears. 

It was 1918. The years had passed in a flash and had left me falling behind, stumbling to grasp onto the changing world. Compared to Denmark, he did not share the same struggles I did. He did not struggle with the overwhelming feeling of homesickness. I had hoped that I could finally go home, go back to Iceland and once again stand on the plains and hills like I did as a child. But, sadly, I was not granted that by Denmark. He kept me close to his side for many years, unable to let me go like he did with Norway, Sweden, and Finland. 

I had watched Finland and Norway gain their independence and become countries once again, separating from Sweden with heads held high. The newspapers in Denmark kept me up to date with Finland and Denmark came smiling to me nearly a hundred years ago waving his arms around about how Norway is no longer in a union with Sweden and whooped as he picked me up. He had acted the same but replacing Norway with Finland and Sweden with Russia. But I wished for the same feeling of Nationality and freedom. Mr. puffin called it jealousy. 

1908, I remember the year well. The year I thought Denmark would finally let go of me like the others had. But, I was sadly mistaken and what I wished for took longer than I ever hoped for. I remember sitting with Denmark i n the hallways of his court rooms, his and my politicians roaming and speaking. Denmark did not speak to me that year, unable to look at me knowing that I wanted to leave and leave his side. He considered me family, my people as his own, but I lost that feeling years ago.

In the past few years, war had swooped the world into devastation. I pressed my hands into the moist and youthful soil that I treasured, that I started at Denmark's home. My hand shook as I reflected, it might’ve been for the best to stray away from the claws of the men who reached for power, to be neutral as the world clawed at each other like cats and dogs. 

One night, I remember, I woke up to voices in the big house that had been empty for anything but me and Denmark. I shuffled out of my covers and pulled on a cardigan and opened the old wooden door of my room that I've pushed over thousands of times. My socks rubbed against the wool rugs that had been replaced over the years and over the new wood that had been recently installed. In these moments I felt like a child again, like a little version of myself looking around corners to see Denmark and Sweden or Norway screaming and yelling. But this time, it was neither of the men. He had resembled them slightly, with blue eyes and blonde hair. But, his shoulders were strong and his hair slicked back as he stood up straight and just a bit over Denmark.

“I don’t understand,” Denmark pressed his pinched fingers to the bridge of his nose, “They are my people, that is my land, you cannot send them to war.”

“Southern Jutland was my land, it is filled with my people, they will fight for me,” The man spoke sloppily, as if Danish had not been his first or second language, “I have no control over your neutral lands. The people will do as they like, Danemark.”

Denmark let out a long frustrated sigh, and opened his eyes to see my stand at the edge of the hallway, peeking out of the corner. His blue eyes went wide as his mouth fell agape, he sighed again;

“Ísland, go to bed,” Denmark nodded politely as he pushed past the man to stand and come towards me.

“I am not a child,” I retaliate, scowling, “I have the right to know who you speak to.”

“Ísland-”

“Who is this?” The man asks. Had approached the two of us, his gaze was a piercing blue, cold and stony as he gazed at me. Suddenly, heart started to race and suddenly I realized that I should've listened to Denmark and just go to bed. 

“One of my territories, Ísland,” Denmark swallowed thickly as he pushed me towards the man for a hand shake.

“Ísland,” I introduce myself.

“Deutschland,” Germany. A name that had been spoken over the war, a name that I should’ve known by the things they were speaking of. He takes my hand into a strong handshake, holding my hand longer than what felt natural.

In that moment, I felt like he had dug into my very soul. He eyed me up with a gaze that I nearly flinched away from. His blue eyes were nothing compared to the warm eyes of Denmark. I hated the way he scanned me like I was some form of battle plan, as if I was a chess piece that was to be played like a pawn. He knew who I was, and that was clear.

Now I knew who the world was truly fighting against, a man who stood tall with Nationality and power. And that was something to be scared of.

I sighed as the thoughts faded away as the Danish sun turned blistering. Over the years spent in the sunny, flat region, I learned was less likely to be swamped by snow like my home had usually been. I shoved the shovel into the ground for it to stay still. I scanned the growing garden, my project that I had worked on to just spend my time on something useful. I had nothing to do as the war had raged on and ended. A mere month ago and the world has finally stopped falling apart. The world celebrated and jumped for joy and reached for their hats and scarves to throw and cheer because the war finally ended. 

I turned to look at the front door that was opened, the old door squeaked as it opened. I nodded a hello at Denmark as he made his way slowly towards me. I looked to his hands, which were tense and clutching something towards his chest. I frowned.

“Danmark?” I asked.

“Ísland,” Denmark took a breath, “I cannot say that I am happy or sad about this.”

As if the world had been waiting for this moment, the wind picked up to clash against the December sun. I said nothing and let Denmark continue.

“I know you have waited for this, watched people gain it,” Denmark pressed the crinkled paper to my chest, “May we stay united and happy.”

Suddenly, I realized what was going on. I rushed to open the paper and as i scanned over it, a smile erupted from my mouth and I reached out to pull Denmark into a hug. The air was swept of out my body in the rush, I did not think this would ever happen. It might not be what i was thinking of, but it was enough. Just enough to go home out of the reach of Denmark and his loneliness. I laughed happily and clutched the back of Denmark's blazer, putting my nails deep into the fabric to keep myself up and straight from falling. 

“It may not be what I wanted, But it is enough.”

Independence but a formed Union with Denmark. A sharing of rulers and support. 

“Thank you, Magnus.”

And He sobbed into my shoulder. But, It was not a goodbye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Its been a month and I really thought i could finish this and uh,,,
> 
> Lookie here. I havent finished it :D
> 
> So this is now 3 chapters and I hope i can get the next one out soon enough >:/

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve had this in my docs for like EVER. I started It during the summer but then school started and I completely left it alone. I didn’t have any motivation for Little One until maybe a little while ago and I suddenly wanted to write in it again. I know not everything is historically accurate but I had fun!


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